


Ties That Bind

by gayhacker



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Dom/sub, Dominance, Exhibitionism, Hair-pulling, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayhacker/pseuds/gayhacker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the first party following Rika's death, Zen takes Jumin home following a bought of jealousy. Jumin proves that he is in control and that Zen is his, with the use of his own tie.</p>
<p>AU where the party is held without the cast meeting the MC. Spoiler-free!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in Mystic Messenger hell, so of course I had to write a fic for Juminzen, the OTP. A friend requested D/s and it got slightly out of control, but I'm rather pleased with the result. I apologize if it's a bit out of character, although I think it could be excused by the canon divergence. 
> 
> Please leave kudos/comments if you enjoy this fic!! :D

The party, much like its guests, had overstayed its welcome, drabbling along much like a child unsure of how to take their next step without a parent’s guiding hand. In the two years since Rika had passed away, negotiations had come and gone with the cycles of the moon, tempers rising and swelling with its wax and arguments declining and thinning with its wane. Yet, in the end, it had been a unanimous vote to continue hosting the party, Yoosung finally agreeing with V’s statement that it was what Rika would have wished for, the latter turning his near-blind eyes towards the sky and murmuring it was likely she was smiling from the heavens above. Preparations had been strenuous, invitations sending out quicker than Seven’s hands on a keyboard, and Zen himself had often suggested it was more trouble than the effort was worth despite V’s expected and near-automatic response of “it will be worth it, I promise.” And it had been, in terms of monetary refundment-- despite Rika’s absence, the organization had reeled in more donations than in the two parties prior-- though, Zen couldn’t deter himself from the thoughts that plagued his brain as he witnessed the stress coming alive as a parasite to infect his friends and either drain them of their personality or reshape it altogether, into a mass Zen could hardly recognize as belonging to its owner. Thoughts that perhaps not hosting the party would have salvaged everyone’s peace of mind, leaving intact sanity and dignity alike.

As much as he was loathe to admit it, the party’s foundation _was_ Rika, as was the RFA’s-- she was the core, the support that held the group together with her words and ideals, and without her, tension ran high, arguments ran often, and members ran amuck. Without her, the RFA was without its R, left to piece itself together cautious and safe, though it remained hollow with only the ghost of its center. And ghost she was-- Zen, though he would never voice it, had become to be sick of the woman’s name by the date of the party-- the two year anniversary of her death.

It had been upon V’s suggestion, that the party be held upon the day Rika died; he had suggested it would transform an otherwise day of mourning into a day of giving back, and while the idea had seemed practical and ingenious at the time, throughout the day everyone’s spirits had slowly sank, beginning with Yoosung and ending with Seven. Zen himself, not one to be affected by grieving, had become increasingly less enthusiastic and showy as the day wore on, and as Jaehee was escorting the remaining guests outside with a look of exhaustion on her face, a lean-muscled back covered by an immaculately tailored navy suit caught his eye-- Jumin Han.

The man across the room had been Zen’s reason to remain in the RFA; V had lamented that were the organization to dissolve, there would no longer be a need for the chatroom, and Seven would likely be instructed to shut down the messenger app. Of course, it had been under the guise that Zen couldn’t allow Jumin to out-show him in performance of organizing guests for the party, but the reality was that he was more than perfectly aware how little time Jumin dedicated to his personal life aside from his dreaded furball of a cat and the RFA. Was the app to be shut down, he’d likely lose all connection he had with the other, an occurrence Zen simply couldn’t allow. As much as the two bickered in public, their tentative not-relationship relationship was something Zen couldn’t bare to see go, and so he stayed.

Jumin, however, was making his way towards the exit with a woman in a pressed pencil skirt short enough to reveal the length of her legs, made to appear even longer by the heels in an identical mauve toher blouse. She wasn’t recognizable to him; though, the majority of the guests weren’t aside the ones that had sought him out during the party to compliment his acting or appearance, most often from entertainment and modeling industries or agencies. The words of adoration from fans and directors alike had served as his stamina throughout the day, though many of those with cameras or an eye for the theatre or simply a pretty face had staggered off, too full or intoxicated to admire his glamor past four-o’clock. If Jumin was speaking to this woman, however, she was likely a corporate executive rather than a fashion designer, high enough in position it would warrant the CEO himself to speak to her in lieu of his assistant Jaehee. Zen knew this, and yet there was something off-putting about the view of them side-by-side, the top of Jumin’s head more than its length above hers; perhaps the sway of her hips or the click of her heels…

Without further thought, Zen dashed across the room, shouting the other’s name as he did so, silver-white ponytail extending behind him with the ghost of a breeze. The executive’s lips dipped to a frown and the woman pursed her own as Jumin glanced sharply over the angle of his shoulder to place the voice of his caller, fingers lengthening to stiffness from laxness at his side.

“Zen, is there something you wish to discuss? I’m sorry, but it will have to wait-- I’m in the middle of a business conversation with Ms. Yoon at the moment, and I must ensure she gets back to her office in time for a meeting.”

Inwardly, Zen rolled his eyes-- the especially formal speech Jumin was predisposed to use when in proximity of clientele was as meticulous as the pin of his tie, and though it was only slightly elevated from how he spoke to the RFA, it was the tone that stirred such a reaction of amusement inside Zen. Though his voice was near monotone, there was an undercurrent of imminence that suggested Jumin was concerned about her well-being, that he didn’t view her as simply an inhuman means of expanding his business. Perhaps he did truly care whether she was tardy for her meeting, though Zen was almost certain it was due to the miniscule stain it would put on his reputation if he held her overtime rather than actual selflessness, something Jumin Han did not possess.

Cocking his head at the woman who was glaring at him as though he was a gnat she was contemplating swatting, Zen turned up the corners of his lips in a smile radiating innocence and sweet sincerity. “Sorry to have interrupted you, then. Would you like a signed copy of my newest production poster as compensation? It would only take a moment-”

“I’m not a fan of your works, thank you.” Ms. Yoon turned with eyebrows raised back to Jumin, nodding at him as she asked “shall we continue?” and began to speak once more as the click of her heels echoed throughout the hall while she made her way towards the exit, centimeters closer to Jumin than she needed to be.

It was if his heart had been doused in acid-- Zen could feel it peeling and shrivelling and wrinkling with every step the pair took. Not only had she _ignored_ him, she disliked his acting as well? Or perhaps _hated_ if the cool of her tone was to be any indication? Awestruck, he turned towards where he had last seen Jaehee for the reassurance the assistant seemingly always had in excess supply, but she was nowhere to be found; V was nodding humorlessly, deep in conversation with a man that, when Zen wracked his brain, he was fairly sure of being a generous benefactor of a photographer, and Seven was grinning and gesturing about with his hands as he had the tendency to do while he spoke with his friend Tom. Other guests milled about, picking at the last of the appetizers and sipping the remnants of their beverages, yet none approached Zen; a sudden sense of isolation and exhaustion overcame him and he longed for a beer to pair with the bitterness seeping from his chest at that moment.

He estimated it was fifteen minutes before Jumin returned to the hall, fifteen minutes of busying himself on his phone, refreshing after refreshing the pages of tabloids and news sites he often appeared on to see if there was any reports or photos uploaded about the party, particularly with his face or name. None, however, had updated to include that information-- it was likely either not enough time had passed since its conclusion or the party simply wasn’t significant enough to make front-page headlines this year. Sighing, Zen pocketed his phone before pouring himself a glass of water in attempt of apparent preoccupation.

So focused was he on Ms. Yoon’s words echoing in his mind though they had long since disappeared from the air in the room, Zen didn’t hear the soft of the footfalls behind him, didn’t notice someone had approached him until he felt the presence behind his shoulders and the brush of words past his cheek.

“What was that about? Ms. Yoon was extremely off-put by your advances, and I had to console her. You should know better than to bother me while I’m talking to someone about C&R, Zen.” Jumin stood with his arms crossed, mouth drawn into a line of unamusement and eyes narrowed slightly. Despite their one-inch height difference, the executive seemed to hold considerable physical power over Zen, and he found himself straightening his back as he turned to face the navy-suited man; due to Jumin’s chosen stance, their proximity was far too near, and as Zen set his water down their chests nearly brushed against one another’s.

“I thought you were going to leave with her, and the RFA needs you to help clean up. You can’t skimp out on the dirty work, you know, just because you’re rich or whatever.”

A sound hitting the middle ground between a cough and a snort of derisiveness came from the back of Jumin’s throat. “Who said I was going to leave? I had every intention of returning-- you just have no faith in me.”

“Gee, I wonder why that is. Not like you’ve fallen through in the past, before, or anything like that,” Zen scowled.

“Name one time I’ve failed to uphold my end of a contract.” Jumin’s voice was level, eyes glinting as though he had genuine curiosity as to which instance Zen would choose to expose in that moment, which of the many occurrences of failure of responsibility Zen was sure were stored in his brain yet he couldn’t wrack to the front.

Zen’s voice dipped low on condescension and irritation as he spoke. “Is that what you were doing with _Ms. Yoon_ , then? Making a contract?”

For a moment, the charcoal of Jumin’s eyes seemed to ignite, catching fire as though the red of Zen’s own had lit a spark in the other’s. They narrowed before widening, and Jumin’s features relaxed; he nodded and then uncrossed his arms as if a threat of hostility had been placated.

“I see. Then, you’re jealous I was talking to her.”

Mouth agape, Zen stood still as the marble statues he repeatedly compared himself to for a moment before the flames in Jumin’s eyes trailed to veins and caught on his blood “ _Jealous? Me?_ Over _you?_ It’s just some dumb contract-- I made three of them myself today. I mean sure, she was pretty, but I could have gone home with any other woman had I chosen to-- that’s what happens when you have my kind of beauty.”

“I’m more than aware of your looks,” Jumin began, tilting his head to the side. Zen didn’t fail to catch the way the other’s eyes drifted to the slant of his cheekbones and the square of his jaw and the line of his lips, like Jumin was studying his features to the point of memorization, or simply reminding himself of his handsomeness. He gulped at the words and the way the man’s eyes ceased trailing to fixate on his throat, felt the fire make its way to his cheeks to heat them to color. “And as you said, you’ve been surrounded by women all day, flirting needlessly with many of them. So then why are you jealous? It seems rather hypocritical to me.”

“I told you-- I’m not jealous! You’re such a jerk, always saying these ridiculous things.”

Jumin’s eyes roamed upwards to meet Zen’s own once more. “Perhaps you need clarification, then. What I meant by saying you were jealous _I_ was talking to _her_ , was that you were jealous of _her_ , not _me_.” And before Zen could open his mouth to protest, insist there wasn’t a chance he had been jealous of Jumin speaking to Ms. Yoon, delicately long fingers were clutching at the sleeve of his customized white jacket, encircling his wrist above the fabric, and Jumin was leaning forward and downward until his lips just tickled the shell of Zen’s ear.

“If you’d like, I could prove to you that it’s you I want, and not her.” His back was pressed flush to the table now, and Zen shuddered as Jumin murmured, eyes fluttering closed as he chuckled breath into his hair, the combination of the pressure at his wrist and spine and the cool of air on his ear turning the flames inside of him to burn arousal at the tips. “But if you weren’t jealous, I suppose there’s no point.”

As much as Zen longed to maintain his assertion, he had always been one to put priority on satiating physical desires, and though he was stubborn, the low of Jumin’s voice resonating directly in his ear paired with the choice of his words and tone of seduction he was sure the other wasn’t quite aware the effectiveness of won over, and he found himself uttering “ _yes_ ” as admittance to the correctness of Jumin’s assumption. In a vague sense, Zen was aware of his own over-enthusiasm, aware of how the word had been exhaled as more of a breathy moan than the resilient mutter he had half-aimed for, but Jumin was chuckling again, the vibration humming along Zen’s ear and down his neck to his spine, and if it had been Zen’s plea that had elicited this reaction from the other, it was certainly more than worth self-perceived humiliation.

“Yes, what? You need to say it.” There was amusement crackling underneath Jumin’s words, electricity that only served to render Zen less in control of himself and more controlled by his desire as it prickled every surface of his skin Jumin or his breath was touching, the flames underneath rising to burn hot even through his clothing. Eyes squeezed shut, Zen inhaled, the sharp of Jumin’s cologne assailing his nostrils in a way that shouldn’t have aroused him yet did, the odor serving to remind him that at the moment, his every sense aside taste and sight were being dominated by _Jumin Han._

“Yes, I was jealous, okay? I was jealous seeing you with her, so you can stop your gloating now.” His concluding words were pointless, however; his admittance would only allow Jumin to feel more confident in himself, would only raise the other’s possessive nature to heights Zen had likely never scaled before. Just as if he were climbing over the edge of a mountain cliff, a sense of vertigo pulsed through Zen, and as Jumin’s grip on his wrist tightened as if it were the only thing holding Zen upright, his eyes flew open as a familiar voice called across the room.

“Get a room, you two!” It was Seven, laughter like television static rendering his words staccato. Near immediately, Jumin released his hold on Zen, stepping backward to allow a body’s worth of space between the two. The loss of his touch left him feeling nude, as if a quintessential item of clothing had been removed rather than five fingers. Sure his face was even more heated, Zen studied Jumin’s cheeks, but try as he might he couldn’t see an ounce of color on the pale of his face; the man remained as seemingly stoic as ever despite Seven calling them out on their intimate moment. Thankfully, the room was void of persons other than Seven and V-- the former had raised an eyebrow, while the latter’s eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, revealed no trace of expression, nor did the remainder of his face even as he spoke.

“You can leave if you want. Seven and I will take care of the cleanup, as well as Jaehee and Yoosung once they return.”  
  
“Very well, then. Thank you V. I’ll call for my driver, then.” Jumin nodded, removing his cell phone from his pocket to press speed-dial on the touchscreen and order the person on the other end-- presumably the chauffeur-- to bring his car to the hotel that, due to Jumin’s connections, had generously offered to sponsor the party’s location. Zen’s mind was left reeling-- he longed for those hands on him again, that voice murmuring in his ear, and yet at the same time, his fingers trailing over Jumin’s custom-tailored suit, rumpling the immaculately pressed fabric and undoing that perfectly straightened tie…

“Zen, he’ll be here momentarily.”

“Have fun, you two~” Seven grinned at Zen and gave a thumbs up, mouthing what Zen was fairly certain was “go get some,” before Jumin took his wrist once more to drag his flustered self to the lobby and out the door.

 

Jumin’s car wasn’t perhaps as showy externally as one of Seven’s sports cars, but the mini-limousine’s inside featured an unmarred leather seat, tinted windows as well as tinted, sound-proof barrier between the front and passenger seats and the rear one. It was due to this boundary, or perhaps the other’s lack of regard for the fact there was another man in the car, that Jumin chose to sit in such close proximity to Zen. Their thighs were brushing and Jumin still had a hold on Zen’s forearm; it was only moments before he released it once more, bringing it upwards to run his fingers along the length of Zen’s jawline before turning his chin so he was facing the executive. Electricity buzzed down Zen’s spine at the intensity of the other’s gaze; his eyes had hardened to steel and his voice was just as unyielding as he spoke.

“I don’t like the way you compliment those women who fawn over you. They see you as no more than an object of beauty, I’m sure, not going even so far as to learn your true personality.”

“They’re my fans _and_ my supporters. Even your own assistant is one of them, and I’ll have you know she sees me as a person. Sometimes it feels like she does so more than you! You never come to my shows or give me credit for how hard I work, or even compliment me-- you’re always focused on yourself. And you sure as hell don’t _appreciate_ me, at least not as much as you appreciate that cat of yours.” Temptation to slap away Jumin’s hand ran through his mind, yet as he raised his own the pressure on his cheekbones increased, halting his movement to leave his hand hovering an inch above the leather of the seat.

“You’re right. I don’t do those things. But I should start-- if you’ll start as well, since you never care to ask about my work or my business. I could say you’re selfish as well.” He paused. And I do admit I dislike the way Assistant Kang dotes on you, but the way you’re kind to her…” Jumin’s eyes softened, melting away to gentleness along with his cup of Zen’s face. “I’d like you to be that way to me, too.” His next words were hot on Zen’s lips as he leaned in, the movement of his lips more felt than seen. “So, not only tonight-- from now on, you’re mine.” And upon seeing the way Zen’s eyes narrowed, the way his mouth opened to give comment to the proper etiquette of relationships, he added “if you don’t object.”

“I don’t,” Zen confirmed, and he reached to tangle his fingers into the black of Jumin’s hair, pressing his lips hard against Jumin’s and parting them against the hot yet soft friction of his mouth. Almost immediately, Jumin took control of the kiss, slipping his tongue into Zen’s mouth as his other hand moved to brace against Zen’s hip; thumb brushing against his back in such a way Zen groaned satisfaction into the other’s lips. Jumin’s tongue was fire, burning every surface it touched from the roof of his mouth to the back of his tongue until Zen was consumed by the other’s heat, the heat that was quickly spreading throughout his body, travelling down his neck and spine to jolt forward to his stomach and groin. As much as he dreaded walking out of the vehicle with an erection, face flushed and clothes rumpled, he couldn’t help but continue to press his lips against the other’s pair and moan as Jumin dragged his tongue over his.

Time was unimportant as they kissed-- it sped up and stood still all at once, and as Zen melted into the flames of Jumin’s touch and kiss the anxiety over when they would arrive at his home disappeared from his mind as did all thoughts, even those of remembering to breathe. By the time they startled apart as the car came to a halt, Zen’s lungs were burning along with the rest of his body inside and out, and he panted to regain some semblance of control over his breaths while Jumin inhaled in attempt to slow his own. The two took moments to straighten their clothes, Zen positioning his jacket in such a way it would cover his forming erection as they exited the car.

It was a short trip into the house and up the flight of stairs, and much to Zen’s displeasure Jumin marched up the stairs methodically rather than racing as Zen half-wished to, opening the door to the room Jumin knew to house Zen’s bed with politeness instead of throwing it wide. Zen knew to simply account it as Jumin’s nature, just as it was his nature to instruct Zen with such a low voice, tone authoritative though differing from what he knew to be the other’s business tone-- there was a purring of seduction that struck through it like lightning, setting the room abuzz with electricity.

“Take off your jacket,” Jumin directed as he unbuttoned his own, discarding it to the floor in an act that somewhat surprised Zen-- there were occasions where he would insist on hanging his clothing in Zen’s closet, though those had been more infrequent as of late, despite the last time Jumin had taken Zen to bed being more than a month ago.

“Mr. Trust Fund Kid is so bossy tonight” Zen quipped as he removed the garment, as though the other’s words and voice hadn’t reddened his cheeks even further, hadn’t made his blood run hotter and his cock grow harder.

The way Jumin was studying Zen, wasn’t quite as though he was an object; rather, the glint in his eyes reminded Zen of hunger-- possessive, consuming hunger. “Now, lie on your bed and spread your legs slightly. Not too wide, though, or else you’ll make me want to take you right now, and I wish to pleasure you more before I do so.”

Breathing heavy with arousal, Zen complied wordlessly, climbing into his bed to press his back flush to the mattress and spread his legs apart. The positioning made his semi-hardened cock evident, and Jumin eyed it appreciatively with the same lustful hunger before striding over, pressing his thigh between Zen’s own, arms bending to lock on either side of Zen’s shoulders. Jumin’s own erection could be felt against Zen’s stomach, and as his eyes blinked closed his body arched into the contact against his cock. He shifted his hips to rub friction, moaning as Jumin increased the pressure by dragging his thigh sideways and back.

“Open your eyes. I want to see you look at me.” As Zen did so, he was able to see for himself just how the other’s grey gaze matched his tone-- commanding and fierce, though rather than feel fear or disgust, Zen’s only emotions were of exhilaration as his own red eyes stared upward into Jumin’s. The way he was looking at him, as if he were the only man in the world-- it was an expression Zen would never tire of.

“Good,” Jumin murmured. “You look so innocent like this-- just like an angel. Of course, with what I’m about to do to you--” he stopped, reaching with right arm to free Zen’s hair of its ponytail so it cascaded over his shoulder, and wrapped a thick lock around his finger to tug gently, making Zen arch his back further so the tug harshened.

Jumin chuckled, pulling harder until Zen could feel slight pain at his scalp. “I love your hair like this. You should wear it down more often, for me.” He released the lock, combing through the silver-white of Zen’s hair with delicate fingers, ensuring not to snarl the strands.

“If I wear my hair down it won’t be for you,” Zen attempted to insist, but Jumin merely hummed, tugging at his hair once more while simultaneously grinding his thigh against Zen’s cock, and throaty moan that sounded from Zen as reaction carried much more volume with it than he had intended.

“That’s it. I’ll make you moan much louder than that by the time we’re done.” The low vibrations carried to Zen’s ears and brought flush to the tips along with them. Beginning to become impatient. Zen reached upwards to undo the top button of Jumin’s dress shirt, speaking as he did so.

“You’re all talk and no game, so far. Show me what you mean, then.” He was undoing the third button when Jumin snatched at his wrist, tightening his fingers around it like a vice. Zen broke his focus from the task of removing the other’s shirt to glance upward at Jumin’s face, caught off guard; the other wore an expression between amusement and slyness, eyebrows raised and lips quirked upward in a way that could either convey entertainment or cunningness. In the end, it was the spark in his eyes that revealed he likely had intentions of his own, and they were fully betrayed as Jumin rose to his knees, grabbing hold of Zen’s other forearm to raise both above his head.

“You’re so greedy. If you want me to show you what I mean, I’d be more than happy to-- you can just lie back while I make you feel good. Leave your hands in the air for a moment.” Jumin’s knees hugged Zen’s hips, and his cock ached in protest from the sudden relief of pressure, but he huffed and followed Jumin’s directions, keeping his arms raised as Jumin released his wrists and moved his hands to his tie, undoing the knot and buttons of his collar to slide the sleek material from around his neck.

“I’ll ensure you can’t be selfish, anymore.” And before Zen was able to process what was happening, Jumin was binding the tie around his wrists, grinning with all the handsomeness of the devil as he secured the knot and stretched the fabric to the bedpost, looping it around the wooden frame as well so that Zen couldn’t move his arms or make use of his hands.

“Jumin--” Zen began, though not in protest-- he had no complaints about his current predicament, he rather enjoyed the feeling of his wrists being bound, being helpless to whatever Jumin chose to do to him. However, he cut himself off once he saw how Jumin was gazing at him-- his hunger had turned ravenous, and indeed when Jumin returned his thigh to its place between Zen’s and ducked his head to breathe against his neck he was half sure he was going to devour him. He would be right-- Jumin placed his lips against Zen’s collarbone in a gentle kiss before increasing the pressure and parting them to suck on the sensitive pale skin over the bone. As he began to suck with more force, Jumin was undoing the buttons of Zen’s shirt, and the hot of the slight pain was enough to have him squirming under Jumin’s touch, reflexively moaning and straining at his bonds in attempt to reach to press Jumin’s hips flush to his.

Zen gasped as Jumin scraped his teeth lightly at what was now a bruise, lifting his head upwards to gaze, pupils blown wide, directly into the red-hot red of Zen’s eyes. “That’s right, you can struggle, but you can’t do what you want this time.” He glanced downward at what Zen assumed was the mark he had just left, humming appreciatively at his own work. “It’s quite fortunate you tend to wear shirts exposing your collarbones-- they’re so nice, and now I’ve made them even nicer.”

“Shit, I didn’t--” He hadn’t realized what the implications of the mark would be while he had given way to the pleasure of Jumin sucking it onto his chest; he could always cover it with makeup but were he to sweat it off…

“Now everyone will know you belong to someone. Perhaps not me, but it’s enough for me to know what I’ve done. The rest of the RFA will know too, of course. And rumors of you seeing someone will be good for your publicity.”

All thoughts of protest were lost as Jumin finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed the fabric aside, and the heat of hands against his chest took over his senses. As he gasped, Jumin lowered his head once more, this time attaching his mouth to Zen’s neck to pull at the skin with his teeth and lips. At the same time, as if his moans weren’t loud enough due to the grinding against his cock and the lips on his neck, Jumin’s finger’s found Zen’s nipples. He pinched each one between his thumb and forefinger, tugging upward gently as they hardened at his touch before rubbing friction against them and twisting ever so slightly. Zen could feel pre-cum staining his boxers, his cock straining against his pants, flushed hot and hard.

“Jumin--” he gasped, senses overwhelmed completely by the strain on his arms and the heat on his neck and the fingers on his nipples and the pressure on his cock. “Fuck me.”  
Jumin let go of his lips’ attachment to Zen’s neck, clicking his tongue as he abruptly stopped all movement-- moving his hands from Zen’s chest to brace on either side of him and ceasing the movement against his cock. “Zen, what did I say about being selfish?”

“I’m going to _come_ ,” Zen all but moaned out, arching his hips in a desperate attempt to regain the contact against his swelling cock.

“And I’ll make you come.” Jumin’s hands were moving-- trailing downward to Zen’s pants, one undoing the button and zip while the other slid underneath his boxers to wrap around Zen’s cock. The moan he gave out was his loudest yet-- the feeling of Jumin’s warm palm and slender fingers around his cock was too pleasurable, and he was already near his limit-- when Jumin stroked downward his hips reacted involuntarily, thrusting into his hand as he reached the head and began to stroke back upwards. Zen’s whole body was quivering, his hands straining at the tie binding him to the bed and his back arching upwards as he bucked into Jumin’s hand. His moans were becoming continuously louder, the skin contact against his cock overwhelming him, and after two, three, four strokes he was crying out Jumin’s name as he spilled into his hand and onto his boxers.

“I never fail to keep my promises,” was what Zen thought he heard Jumin say, though he didn’t quite process the other’s words due to his orgasm-blank mind. Breathing heavily, Zen sank down into the mattress once more, spent, but Jumin squeezed his overly-sensitive cock rather than let go of it, and Zen whimpered as result of the excess stimulation.

“We’re not done yet, though, are we? You _did_ say you wanted me to fuck you.” Jumin began to pump at his cock once more, slower and more gently in mind of the sensitivity, pushing Zen’s dirtied boxers and pants down past his hips and moving his leg aside so they were able to be removed completely. Within minutes silent aside from Zen’s labored breathing and moans, his cock was flushed to hardness once more due to Jumin’s strokes that glided easy and slick with his own come, the come that Jumin then cleansed himself of by wiping it on Zen’s discarded underwear.

“H-hey” Zen panted, barely able to form words as result of his overwhelming renewed arousal. “Those were new…”

“If you like, I can pay for them to be dry cleaned,” Jumin offered as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and vest from where Zen had left off after the other had bound his wrists. The executive’s chest was pale and lean, toned but not overly muscular, and extremely attractive, but Zen barely had the brainpower to focus on appreciating the sight, too focused was he on his aching cock and tugging at the restraints as he longed to touch himself.

Jumin, meanwhile, was undoing his pants and slipping off his underwear, revealing his erection to Zen’s eyes. He drank in the sight of it-- the color of the head and the length of the shaft-- and though he had seen it many times he longed for it inside of him more than he could ever recall before.

“You keep your lube in the bedside drawer, correct?”

“Yeah,” Zen managed to coherently gasp out, closing his eyes in attempt to focus and slow his breathing as Jumin reached to open the drawer and draw out the lube from inside. He heard the other uncap the bottle, heard the pour of the cool lubricant over Jumin’s hand before the other commanded him to open his eyes once more. Zen’s gaze was unsteady, but he complied, and moments later Jumin spoke again.

“Lift your hips.” Zen knew what was about to come, and it came as no surprise when after he lifted his hips, legs spread in the air, Jumin came to kneel between his legs. Slick fingers approached his entrance, and Zen shuddered at the slippery cold as Jumin circled his forefinger around the ring of muscle several times before pressing inside to the first knuckle. It slid in easily-- there was barely a stretch, but Zen groaned in slight pleasure at the feeling of Jumin’s finger inside of him nonetheless, becoming louder as Jumin pushed to the second knuckle, and then the third. As he was growing used to the sensation, Jumin began to slide his finger out slowly, only to mid-way between his knuckles before re-entering it. On his next exit, he pulled out to the second knuckle before re-inserting it more quickly and slightly harder, and on the third he pulled nearly all the way out before pushing it back inside. Zen moaned quietly as Jumin repeated this several times before attempting a second, and he gasped at the bit of stretch the combination of Jumin’s fore and middle fingers in his ass caused. The other repeated the process slowly, Zen growing impatient as they were inserted and removed centimeters at a time. By the time a third finger was inserted, Zen was becoming increasingly desperate for the other’s cock, but the stretch the third finger provided was enough to distract momentarily from his desire.

Jumin’s fingers were long and slender, and the ache he felt at having three of them inside of him only served to increase the volume and frequency of his sounds of pleasure. Zen could feel himself clenching around them, feel them pressing against his walls, stretching his ass out even more so when Jumin pushed all three completely inside of him, and began to move them inside ever so slightly, loosening him in preparation for what was to come. Lowering his hips in attempt to get the fingers to go further, Zen gasped and shuddered as he felt the longest one just brush against the bundle of nerves inside of him, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body.

“Are you ready for me to make you feel even more pleasure? I’ll make you come without touching you.”

The loss of Jumin’s fingers inside of him left Zen feeling empty as the other slid them out, and his words of promise made Zen quiver in anticipation while he mustered strength to reply. “You better be able to.”

“Are you doubting my abilities?” Jumin posed the question as though he was offended as he stroked his cock to coat it with the lubricant, stifling the gasp at his own touch. It was true, Zen was slightly dubious-- Jumin had never attempted to make him come with only his cock before, but if anyone was able to, it was his lover.

“Well, it doesn’t matter-- I’m quite confident in them. You’ll see.” Slick hands grabbed at Zen’s thighs to lift his ass and lower back off of the bed, putting even more strain on his arms-- though he didn’t quite mind-- and as his back was flat against the mattress, he wasn’t able to witness Jumin aligning his cock with Zen’s entrance until he felt the slick tip against it, and then inside.

The feeling of the thickness of Jumin’s cock pulsing hot inside him was entirely different from the stretch of his fingers, and while it didn’t hurt there was a slight ache as Jumin pushed in half an inch at a time. With no control over his lower body, Zen was unable to thrust his hips or lower them to meet Jumin’s cock, nor was he able to stroke his cock with his arms tied to the bedpost as they were. Never before had he felt so helpless during sex, and loathe as he was to admit it, the arousal and exhilaration he was feeling from Jumin having total control over his body were greater than he had ever remembered experiencing.

Jumin’s cock was now entirely inside of him, the length penetrating deep inside and the girth stretching him just past comfort. The other remained stagnant inside of him for a moment before pulling out and thrusting gently back in, and Zen moaned at the sensation of _finally_ being fucked by Jumin as he had been desperate for for so long. Shifting his hips backwards and forwards, Jumin began to slowly slide in and out of Zen, pulling further back until he was nearly three-quarters of the length out before thrusting back inside. Beyond the pleasure and outside his moans, Zen was dimly aware that the other’s breathing was growing heavy as well, but he concentrated on the feeling of Jumin’s cock thrusting into him more quickly, and when Jumin lifted his hips higher to change the angle so he was able to penetrate more deeply, Zen felt the sensation of the head of his cock pressing against his prostate and cried out.

He could hear the grin in Jumin’s voice as the other spoke. “I see I found it. Then it’s only a matter of time before I hear you crying out my name again.” Zen’s mouth opened to reply but all that came out was a particularly loud moan as Jumin sped up his thrusts, hitting the bundle of nerves inside of him with increasing force, rendering Zen barely able to keep his eyes open; the ceiling was glazey in his view. His arms were aching as were his thighs, yet it was barely noticeable underneath the pleasure he was feeling as Jumin fucked him, and, true to the other’s word, his cock was beginning to throb with heat, dripping with pre-come despite the lack of touch as his prostate was stimulated.

The grip on his legs was becoming tighter as Jumin began panting; Zen was breathing heavily enough as it was, but the sound of the other losing his composure was enough to nearly drive him over the edge, and after one particularly forceful thrust he found himself screaming out “Jumin!” as his second orgasm overcame him; he spilled onto his stomach due to the angle and moments later he felt the hot, sticky substance of Jumin’s own come inside of him as he heard through his wave of pleasure his own name moaned in the other’s low voice. When Jumin pulled out, come dripping from his entrance as his cock was removed, Zen collapsed against the bed, feeling the soreness in every part of his body from his ass to his arms, nearly wheezing from exertion and trembling from the aftershocks of his second climax.

Zen hadn’t noticed his eyes had closed until he felt relief from the strain on his arms; he opened them to find Jumin hovering over him with the tie in his hand, studying it despite his perceived exhaustion.

“I suppose this is a bit too stretched out to have a functional use as a garment anymore,” he muttered, turning it over in his hands. “However, I believe we got a nice use out of it, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Zen muttered, using the remainder of his strength to pull Jumin down next to him, turning so his back was pressed against the other’s chest. “Stop talking, for one minute.”

“I take it you enjoyed it, then? I’m glad.” And with a swat from Zen’s hand against his thigh, he added “my love.”


End file.
